


The Love of a Monster

by mylittleartscapes



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-19 06:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3599640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylittleartscapes/pseuds/mylittleartscapes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elsa has spent too long living a life of solitude to protect her family. Will enough be enough? Or will she let love thaw her frozen heart? Set before the movie. Contains dark themes and material some people might find disturbing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The day started out as any other from the past nine – almost ten – years. The seventeen-year-old princess of Arendelle would wake with the sun, opening her sapphire eyes as the first few golden rays of light crept into the sky and chased away the rainbow of the aurora. Elsa was never sure _why_ she woke up so early: she much preferred the calm, serene time of midnight. But her father was insistent that “a royal must rise with their kingdom at dawn”, and somewhere along the line of constant days of being woken up by his knocking on her door had the routine been set permanently into her system.

She laid in her bed for a minute, staring up at the ceiling of her dark, cold, _lonely_ room. She sighed, as she knew this day would be no different than any other before it. She would get up, clean and dress herself (it was too dangerous to have a lady’s maid, not that she really wanted one anyway), read for a few hours, have lunch brought to her door, attend her private studies for the afternoon, have dinner brought to her door, read for a few more hours, and go to bed. The only things that ever wavered were the little things: sometimes she would see her mother or father and have a brief, rather formal discussion with them; sometimes she had to quickly dive around a corner to avoid being spotted by her sister; and sometimes, if she was lucky, she would go for most of the day without a power slip-up.

The ever-present knowledge that she would eventually have to get up quickly became an annoying enough voice in her head to force her to roll out of bed and face her miserable life for yet another day. After she was clean, platinum hair meticulously styled into a tight bun, and dressed in a conservative, dark blue dress complete with white gloves, she sat down at her desk to read.

The hours ticked by with nothing eventful happening. She passed her father in the hall on the way to her lesson. They greeted each other with wordless, insignificant nods. They were both distracted by something: Elsa by the constant storm of power she could feel swirling inside her, growing stronger with every beat of her heart; the King by something troubling and dark – at least, that was what she assumed by his face.

When she retired to her room it was mid-afternoon. The lessons had finished early for the day – for once, not because of her – which gave Elsa more free time to do nothing. She had almost reached her door when she heard the very familiar, bouncy-yet-clumsy footsteps of her younger sister. Elsa felt her heart seize in fear. Instead of reacting the way one would think a young, terrified ice witch would respond, and freezing where she stood, Elsa doubled her speed and dashed into her room, closing the door behind her.

What she did not know was that at the same moment she slammed the door a little harder than she wanted to, Anna had rounded the corner. She was planning on ignoring her older sister’s snowflake-patterned door, since she had long ago given up on ever drawing her elusive sibling out from behind it. But the sound of it closing so forcefully while she was within such close proximity to it made something within her usually perky demeanour snap.

She walked up to the door and knocked. It was not her usual, secret knock. This was simple and mature…too mature. “Elsa?” she asked, not expecting an answer right away, “Are you ok?”

Silence. There was no audible reaction. If she could have seen through the wood, however, Anna would have seen her sister standing stalk-still and rigid, covering her mouth with a gloved hand out of reflex to keep herself from accidentally answering something.

“What is it, Elsa?” Anna asked, her frustration beginning to show in her voice, “There must be something going on with you! Why won’t you just tell me why you don’t want to see me anymore?”

Still no response on her end, but inside the room the temperature had plunged and frost was beginning to seep out of Elsa’s skin despite her attempts to keep it inside of her. She wanted to respond, but pressed her hand even more tightly over her mouth. If she were to say something, it might give Anna hope that they could eventually see each other again – something she had accepted as impossible because of her powers.

“What is it?” Anna demanded again, harsher than before, “Is there something wrong? Are you sick? Embarrassed of me? Is it something I did?”

‘ _No_ ,’ Elsa thought sadly as snow started to come down from the ceiling, ‘ _It’s what_ I _did to_ you.’

“Just tell me!” Anna begged, “I promise I’ll leave you alone after, no matter what it is! Just _please_ , Elsa!”

Elsa felt something cold constricting around her heart as she struggled to drown out her sister’s desperate voice. There was nothing she wanted more in the entire universe than to throw open that wretched door and wrap her sister up into a warm, strong hug and never let her go again. But then images of _that_ night threatened to resurface in her mind and she found the strength to destroy that desire.

Anna was near tears and her voice reflected it. “I just want to know,” she said sadly, “I just want my sister back. _Please_ Elsa, say something…anything! I…I just want to know that you still care about me.”

‘ _Of course I care, Anna!’_ she thought as she turned toward the door. Her head swam with so many contradicting things, but the loudest voice was the one telling her to forget this stupid “keep your distance” thing, open that damn door and hug her sister. There was another, equally dominant voice ordering her to tell Anna that she was loved so much by her sister that Elsa would do _anything_ to keep her from harm.

But those voices were promptly silenced by the memories of the incident: the memory of slipping on ice she had _never_ once slipped on before nor after; of striking her head on the hard ground, thus making her vision cloudy and unfocused; of her sister leaping off a twelve-foot-high pile of snow with nothing to cushion her fall underneath; of reaching out to try and stop Anna, not realizing that her hand was aimed directly at her until her sudden fear had caused a burst of ice to shoot from her palm against her will; of how her vision conveniently cleared like some kind of sick joke at the same moment that beam of ice collided with her beloved sister’s head, and sent her crashing to the ground unconscious; of holding her limp, frozen body…

Those memories haunted her with every breath. They filled her mind with guilt and her heart with sorrow. They plagued her nightmarish dreams and tormented her when she was awake. They reminded her of why she could never get too close to anyone. They reminded her that she was too dangerous to be trusted, _loved_ , even.

Anna did not take too well to Elsa’s silence. “Really?” she challenged bitterly, “You really aren’t going to say anything?”

Elsa clamped her other hand over her mouth, too. ‘ _I’m so sorry, Anna_.’ She let the words she wished to speak run through her mind, believing that even whispering them was too risky. Tears had begun to fall from her eyes, and like they always did in the past, they froze on her cheeks and began to burn her skin like dry ice.

Her little sister had had enough. She had taken the rejection for too long; she had been shut out too many times. She had no idea that Elsa was doing this for her protection – she only believed that her elder sister hated her. Well, two could play at that game. “Fine!” she shouted, her own tears staining her cheeks, “If that’s the way it’s going to be, then don’t say anything! I don’t want to hear your voice again! I never want to _see_ you again! I…I _hate you_!” With those words, she ran down the hall and back to her own room, sobbing as she went.

On the other side of the snowflake-decorated door, the air could rival the frigid climate of the arctic. Elsa had felt the storm brewing inside of her, but when she heard the words she never thought she would hear from Anna, it painfully retreated – forcing its way into her heart. There was no stopping it; the calm that dwelled within her body was not worth the excruciating pain of her own heart turning to fragile ice. She could feel the frost creeping under her skin and through her veins, not stopping until everything inside of her was cold.

Everything, that is, except her soul. She sunk down to her knees, tears flowing more freely. She thought about chanting her mantra, but the damage had already been done and she was too greatly wounded to make concealing even worth it. She wrapped her arms around herself and fell over to her side on the floor. Icicles burst up around her, creating her own personal prison as she curled into herself more and more. “Anna,” she whispered, trying desperately to keep the ice at bay, “I’m sorry. I’m so, _so_ sorry, Anna.”


	2. Chapter 2

It had been hours before she managed to push herself off the floor. It was late at night, and she was exhausted, but there was one thing sitting on her mind that refused to let her rest until it was dealt with: she could not do this anymore. She hated lying to her sister, and she hated being alone. Elsa’s heart had already been frozen, and she knew she could not survive it being broken. She already felt cracks in it, and they ached whenever she thought about Anna sitting alone in her room, wondering what she could have possibly done to deserve being shut out.

Elsa silently walked over to the door and slowly peered out into the hallway. It was dark, and quiet. Only a few lamps were lit, which left the light of the moonless night filtering in through the windows to illuminate her path. She hugged herself as anxiety settled in the pit of her stomach. But she pushed forward, because just the thought of having to spend one more night like this made her want to start crying and never stop.

Her parent’s room was at the end of a long passageway on the other side of the castle. She did not like to think about how her room was so far away from theirs – the only one it was further from was Anna’s. As she neared their door, she could hear them talking forcefully to each other. She hesitated at a spot where she still could not make out what was being said. Did she _really_ want to make her request now, and risk walking into an argument?

Yes, she did. She had spent the entire way there rehearsing what she was going to say: _“Mama? Papa? I know you believe it best if I kept my secret from Anna, but she’s old enough now to understand…and I_ cannot _live with another day of her thinking I hate her. I_ need _to tell her about my powers. And_ she _needs to know. She deserves to know.”_

With that thought in mind, Elsa proceeded forward. As she drew near, she began to hear their conversation, and started to regret her choice.

“You’re being stubborn!” the King, Adgar, shouted.

“ _I’m_ being stubborn?” the Queen, Idun, retorted, “That’s rich, coming from _you_!”

“You don’t understand! It’s only precautionary,” he told her firmly.

“The same way locking her in her room was ‘precautionary’?” she snarled back, “The same way forcing her to grow up far too quickly and probably scarring her _forever_ was _precautionary_?”

Elsa froze outside the door, now within arm’s reach of it. They were talking about her. They were _fighting_ about her. She had no desire to eavesdrop on _this_ conversation, of all things, but her feet refused to move, either backwards or forwards. Although it was not a preferred option, she thought about speaking up in the hope that hearing her voice would make them stop. But her voice was stuck in her throat, and was too weak from years of having to say very little out loud to force its way out of her mouth. Even her powers were silent; it felt like they had settled in her chest like magma inside a dormant volcano. So she was stuck listening.

King Adgar seemed agitated, as Elsa sometimes felt when she questioned if her choices in life had been the right ones. “Those were things you _know_ I did not want to do, but we had no choice,” he said slowly.

“There is _always_ a second option somewhere,” Queen Idun replied, softening her voice just a little, “But you were too afraid to look.”

“Of course I was afraid! I’ve _always_ been afraid!”

“Adgar…”

“Don’t! Yes, I was probably wrong for making that cell, but… I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“And you think that _cell_ is going to keep her from getting hurt? Imagine how she’s going to feel when she finds out that her own father has built a special cage for her in the dungeons!”

Elsa’s eyes widened as she felt tears beginning to form, but she still could not make her feet move. They had built a _cell_ for her? In the _dungeons_?

_'Why, Papa?’_ she thought sadly.

Adgar could be heard frantically pacing back and forth. “If anything were to happen–”

“So trapping her in a place she cannot escape from will keep her safe?”

“It will keep any angry citizens away from her! We can tell them that she is in custody, but she will still be treated secretly as our daughter!” he tried to explain, but he sounded like even he did not believe those words anymore.

“And the manacles? The ones you had _specifically_ made to fit over her hands? How is that treating her like our daughter?”

“That is just a last resort! Just in case–”

“In case _what_?” Idun demanded angrily, “Say it! I know you think it!”

“In case she cannot control it!” he shouted back, and Elsa could practically see them glaring at each other, their faces inches apart.

There was a long, painful silence. There was not so much as a floorboard creaking, signifying that no one moved, either. Then, Idun spoke in almost a whisper, “You’re a coward.”

“Don’t call me that,” Adgar replied dangerously, “You know _damn_ _well_ what I have been through.”

“Of course I know. I know because I have been through it, too! And I _refuse_ to take the coward’s way out again!”

“This never would have happened if you hadn’t encouraged her when she was young,” Adgar accused, his anger steadily rising, “If we had taught her to hide them when she was small, she wouldn’t have this problem _now_!”

“For God’s sakes, Adgar! She was a _child_ with _magic_! Isn’t that the dream of every little girl? To possess something so wondrous and beautiful within her own hands? And she wasn’t hurting _anyone_ with them. In fact, I seem to remember her having _better_ control over them before you decided to change that.”

Elsa tried in vain once again to run away, but to no avail. She was forced to remember her childhood, and with it came those haunting memories. Tears started to stream down her face as she felt the pain of her heart beginning to constrict, and crack even more. ‘ _Why can’t I run away?’_

Idun’s voice rang through the darkness: “You were always afraid of her, weren’t you? The minute you realized what she could do…”

“I was never afraid of my _daughter_.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m not!”

“Then _what_ was it? _What is it_ , Adgar?”

“I’m afraid of that accursed ice!” he shouted, “I’m afraid of the thing that has turned my daughter into a _monster_!”

Elsa could hear her heart shatter, like someone had just dropped a pitcher full of icy liquid onto a cold, hard floor. It did not hurt, as her heart freezing had – it just suddenly felt like there was _nothing_ in her chest. And that feeling alone made everything more unbearable. Suddenly, her powers roared to life and immediately coated everything within a ten-foot radius of her in thick, black ice. The temperature plunged, causing the wooden floors to squeak in protest, and groan under the heavy ice.

Her parent’s voices stopped, but the tension in the air had been lifted, telling her that they had stopped for another reason besides their anger toward each other. Footsteps approached the door, and after a few seconds, it opened to reveal her exhausted, worried parents. There was a pause the length of a single heartbeat when their eyes met the betrayal-filled eyes of their daughter, and then she turned and ran.


	3. Chapter 3

“Elsa!” her mother called after her, “Wait, please!” She cast a single, hate-filled glare at her husband before taking off after the trail of ice leading into the darkness.

Adgar stood in shock, the unspoken name of his eldest still lingering in his mouth. Regret and grief consumed him, but his love for her pushed him out of his room and after them down the hall.

Elsa could not hear them calling her. She could not hear them chasing her either, and she had no idea where she was running to, herself. The only thing she heard was a horrible, distorted version of her father’s voice shouting “Monster!” at her without mercy. The storm was brewing faster and faster, this time with no remorse or control. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself to try and keep it all contained, but it felt like trying to barricade a door holding back all of the oceans’ waters. Just as her powers were temporarily dormant like a volcano, the sudden reappearance of them was more explosive and violent than it ever had been before, and it was not long before her body physically hurt as she tried to keep it in. The ice that spread down the halls along with her was thick, sharp and deadly, but it was nothing compared to the glacier that was scraping up against the underside of her skin.

She realized as she was slamming the door shut that she had found her way back to her room. She figured it must have been some kind of instinct to retreat back there, but now that she was trapped – as more and more ice leapt out of her and sealed the door closed – she wanted nothing more than to throw open the main gates and run away into the darkness forever.

Suddenly, she could no longer keep her powers contained, and the way they exploded out of her had might as well have ripped her body apart. _Everything_ was in agony, and the pain brought her to her knees: her chest was constricted and she could not for the life of her breathe; her skin felt like it was on fire, although she knew very well that it was the opposite; every muscle either seized or shuddered in screaming protest of her decision to try and keep that unforgiving, primal force inside of her; and her head – oh _God_ her head – was consumed in swirling, throbbing, _burning_ pain along with the twisted voices of everyone she knew calling her what she wanted to so desperately deny was true. Her throat was dry and sore, too, but it was after a few minutes that she realized it hurt because she was screaming in pain and sadness.

Just as her powers ravaged her body, so too, did they destroy her room. Snow came down in a blizzard, and gale-force winds ripped things off the walls and shelves. Ice spread like a disease up anything and everything, not stopping until the furniture was unrecognizable under the cold layers. Jagged, fang-like icicles descended from the ceiling and rose up from the floor, curling inward slightly to point their incredibly sharp tips at her. The air temperature dropped so suddenly and so brutally that it shattered all of the glass in her sanctuary, completing the process of turning it into a place as deadly as its inhabitant.

Elsa could hear a faint knocking, and what sounded like her mother’s concerned voice. It was drowned out by the voices, but was strong enough to pull her back to reality just slightly. Unfortunately, it cleared her head just enough for her to realize something:

She could not do this anymore.

She could not keep hiding. She could not contain the curse anymore. She could not _live_ like this anymore.

“ _Then leave_ ,” something wicked in her head whispered.

She pushed herself up just enough for her to reach a large, jagged shard of mirror that had exploded out of the stand. She held it tightly in her hands, not caring that the edges were digging into her skin through her gloves. She looked at her reflection: her eyes were red and sore, her hair was a mess of blonde tangles, and her skin was paler than it ever had been from the frost lightly coating it. To an onlooker, she looked the furthest thing from a monster. That was not the case in her eyes. All she saw was a witch capable of only hurting people, a witch not deserving any of the life she had…a witch who needed to die.

She took the shard in her right hand, and shakily pulled the glove on her left hand off. Her breath was irregular and shallow as she set the edge of the glass on her wrist. She began to press down, drawing a thin line of blood.

Before she could push any harder, or begin to drag it across her skin so her life could seep out of her like those wretched powers, she heard the knocking again. Only now, as her head cleared more and more, the knocking grew louder until she realized that it was _pounding_. “Elsa! Elsa, please, open the door!” her mother cried desperately, “Please, Baby, I just want to talk!”

“I can’t,” Elsa replied in a ghostly voice, unsure if her mother could even hear her, “It’s too dangerous.”

“No, you’re _not_ dangerous, Elsa.” Apparently, she _had_ heard it. “You’re scared and sad, yes, but not dangerous!”

“Father was right,” Elsa replied, though more to the air in her room than to her panicked mother, “I _am_ a monster. And I know what needs to be done to monsters.”

* * *

_Seven-year-old Elsa slept soundly in her bed. Suddenly, a familiar weight landed on top of her, only slightly knocking the air out of her as she woke. “Anna, go to sleep,” she moaned, not particularly wanting to indulge in her sister’s antics that night. They had, after all, spent the past three nights together, secretly sneaking into different areas of the castle to turn them into winter wonderlands. She was tired after all of that, and wanted to spend this night in her warm bed._

_“Elsa! Please!”_

_Elsa’s eyes immediately snapped open. Anna’s plea was not playful as it normally was – this was a voice filled with desperation and fear. “Anna? What’s wrong?” she asked as she rolled over to face her sister, only to realize that she had been crying._

_Anna merely pointed toward her bed on the other side of the room. “Th…there’s a monster,” she whispered, “Un…under my bed.”_

_Elsa frowned and looked harder at where Anna was pointing. The light from the moon cast a glow across the room, and caught on branches of the trees outside (and with all the junk piled under the younger princess’s bed), causing a rather scary-looking shadow to spill out the other side of Anna’s bed onto the floor and wall. It even moved as the trees swayed back and forth in the strong wind._

_Fortunately, Elsa knew exactly what to do. She turned to Anna with a warm smile. “Wait here,” she instructed softly, pulling her blankets up over her trembling sister for added comfort._

_“B…but the monster…” Anna began to protest._

_"Don’t worry,” Elsa replied confidently, “That monster should be more afraid of me. No one messes with the Snow Princess’s sister.”_

_Anna grinned at her sister’s self-proclaimed title, and felt immediately better that she had such a brave sibling. She nodded and released her tight grip on Elsa’s arm, not even realizing that she had grabbed it in the first place._

_Elsa hopped out of bed and pretended to approach the “monster” with caution, as if she was about to slay a dangerous dragon. “Alright you foul beast,” she said, remembering the words spoken from one of their fairy tale books, “Prepare to meet your end.”_

_The wind suddenly howled outside the window, causing it to rattle against the wall. Elsa had not expected that, and she jumped back slightly in surprise. Anna gasped and clutched onto the blankets even tighter, wanting to cover her eyes but also not wanting to look away in case her sister needed her._

_Elsa recovered from the shock, and continued acting playfully. “Oh, you’ll pay for that! You don’t scare me! Take that!” With those words, she shot a beam of carefully aimed ice underneath the bed._

_Thankfully, it did exactly what she wanted it to do, and she secretly thanked her tutor for going on and on the previous day about how light can be turned into different colours with the use of a crystal. Her ice did the same thing. Now, instead of twisted shadows creeping out from under the bed, there were dancing rays of rainbow-coloured light._

_“Anna, come see,” Elsa called happily, “The monster’s gone.”_

_Anna slowly climbed down to the floor and raced over to the safety of her sister’s side. She peeked around at the floor, and her face lit up like the sun when she saw the lights. “It’s just like the sky!” she gasped, “You did it, Elsa! You got rid of the monster!”_

_She threw her arms around her sister, who was happy to return the hug. “I told you, Anna: no one messes with my sister.”_

_“You’re so brave, Elsa!” Anna sighed, not wanting to let her sister go, “I wish, one day, I’m brave just like you. But…could you take care of the_ really _scary things still?”_

_“Oh Anna,” Elsa replied, “I know one day you will be the most fearless person in this kingdom. But don’t worry: as long as I’m around, I’ll protect you from_ any _monster. I promise.”_

* * *

“I promise,” Elsa repeated as the memory finished running its course in her damaged mind, “I’ll keep you safe…”

Outside the door, Idun froze. Adgar finally appeared completely out of breath. “What’s happening? Is she alright?” he demanded.

“No,” Idun whispered, realizing where her daughter was going with all of this. Her voice picking up in speed, volume and desperation, she continued to bang on the door and pleaded, “No, no! Elsa, no! Please don’t do this! Please, Baby, open the door! _Please_!”

Adgar had pieced together everything in a matter of seconds, and immediately threw his body against the door in an attempt to get it open. “Elsa!” he shouted, “Don’t you even _think_ about it!” He tried to sound authoritative, but his voice cracked under the stress and he sounded just as terrified as he was feeling. All he knew is that he _had_ to get in that room before he lost his daughter forever.

Elsa barely acknowledged them, and was stuck in her own world of self-loathing. The piece of mirror was still pressed down on her wrist, threatening to end all the pain and guilt along with her life. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “But you’ll be better off without me. Anna will be a good queen: everyone loves her, and she doesn’t have a frozen curse.”

The Queen, despite the constant pounding and crashing against the door, and her own cries, somehow managed to hear her daughter. “Elsa, we will _not_ be better off without you. You hear me? The world will only get darker if you go.”

“But I am a monster,” was the weak reply on the other side of the frozen door. There was a choking sob, and Elsa added through tears, “I just…don’t want to hurt you. This is the only way…”

“No, Elsa, it’s not,” her father told her sternly as he threw himself against the door again. The ice behind it cracked, and the door lurched forward slightly. “This may be the easy way, but it is also the coward’s way! I know now that it is foolish to pursue that option, Elsa! Please, don’t do this!”

“Just take care of Anna…”

“Anna,” Idun gasped, “Anna! Elsa, think of Anna! You said you don’t want to hurt her, but think about what this will do to her! How will we ever explain this to her?”

“She’s been alone for years now. She’ll forget me eventually…”

“Elsa, you _know_ that’s a lie,” Adgar snapped, budging the door even further, “She has not been completely alone, because even though she can’t see you, she knows that you are still there behind that door. But if you do _anything_ now…”

Elsa looked back down at the shard pressing against her skin. The pain in her body had subsided enough that she could now feel it digging into her flesh, and the warmth of her blood trickling down from the cut. With one sharp tug, it would be all over. But her parents’ words got to her: this _was_ the easy way out. She imagined Anna’s reaction to finding out that her own sister had killed herself, and the guilt of something that had not even happened yet nearly overwhelmed her. The hand holding the piece of mirror began to shake violently as she warred with herself over what she should do.


	4. Chapter 4

It was too quiet in Elsa’s room for her parents to stand it. Adgar took a few steps back and charged as fast as he could into the door, Idun only just managing to get out of the way. The force shattered the ice holding it shut, and it swung open violently with a loud crash.

They were immediately struck with a blast of frigid air, and their eyes fell upon the wintery nightmare that was their daughter’s room. But the dangerous ice and terrifying atmosphere went ignored by them when they saw Elsa, curled up in a tight ball on the floor surrounded by shards of glass. They raced to her side. Adgar caught sight of scarlet blood against the white floor and on her wrist, but realized that there was not enough of it. He dropped down, picked up the bloodied shard and pitched it against the wall on the other side of the room. He then undid his jacket and un-tucked his undershirt so he could tear off a scrap of fabric to wrap around her injured wrist.

Idun dropped to her knees and reached out to pull her daughter into a much-needed hug. Right before her fingers reached Elsa’s shoulder she stopped, painfully remembering that Elsa was so petrified of hurting them that she had sworn off human contact. Now, Idun had no idea what to do: she desperately wanted to embrace her daughter, but she was afraid that the touch would push her off the edge she was already so precariously standing on.

“Just this once.”

Both the King and Queen of Arendelle were floored by three, barely spoken words uttered by a broken girl crumpled on the ground. Elsa was in tears, and her breathing ragged, but she managed to find the strength to repeat, “J…just this once. _Please_.”

Idun needed no other invitation, and moved in before Elsa came to her senses and changed her mind. She took hold of Elsa’s shoulders and pulled her into the strongest hug she had ever given. “Oh Elsa,” she crooned as she burst into tears, “It’s ok, Baby. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

For some reason, those words only made Elsa’s cries stronger, but instead of recoiling as she always had, she pressed herself closer to her mother’s body and buried her face in her shoulder. Idun held her tighter, rubbing small, soothing circles on her back. She glanced up at Adgar. She was furious with him, but she knew he was as hurt as she was about this. The only thing that was present on his face was unimaginable sorrow and remorse as he saw what had become of his beautiful daughter – because of him.

“I…I’m s…sorry,” Elsa stammered weepily, “It…it just hurts s…so _much_ , Mama.”

“Don’t worry, Elsa. It’s ok…It’s ok.” Idun honestly had no idea if things would ever be “ok” again. It broke her heart to watch her daughter live such a miserable life for so long, and now it only mashed the broken pieces into a fine powder to see what those years have finally done. Adgar had always been quick to remind her of what could have happened: that they could have lost a child that night all those years ago. Well, he was wrong – they _had_ lost a child, just not the one they thought it would be.

She held onto her daughter’s body and took note of everything she had missed since Elsa started to refuse touch. Her hair, though messy at the moment, was unnaturally soft despite the tangles. Her skin was smooth and cool to the touch, instead of warm. She also grimly noticed just how frail her body felt in her arms; she could feel Elsa’s ribcage underneath several layers of thick clothing. Their servant, Kai, always brought Elsa her meals, and would then report to them. It was through him that they found out that she had not been eating, but that revelation had come years ago, so she must have been sustaining herself somehow.

And then there was her face. Her beautiful features were marred with lines and shadows of constant worry and dread. Her mouth seemed to be permanently downturned, and whenever she had to smile it was clear it was a forced – yet well-rehearsed – smile. Her eyes, once so full of life, love and happiness, were now only filled with fear and sadness. Idun could no longer look into them, because she saw every bit of pain Elsa had ever felt in those icy orbs. The seventeen-year-old bore dark bags under her eyes, and the beginnings of stress lines where a girl her age should never have them. Even her hair seemed to reflect her rapidly aging form, as Idun remembered there being more blonde and less white in the locks. It could have just been a side effect of her powers growing stronger, but Idun was not sure which explanation she preferred.

The night passed slowly and painfully. No one said anything for a long time. Both the King and Queen remained on the floor, silently comforting the Princess. Eventually, her breathing began to calm and her sobs were less sporadic. As she became more relaxed, the room began to change. First, the temperature rose. Then, the snow that had been hovering in the air disappeared. The ice followed after it. But unlike ice from past accidents that melted and left large puddles of water on the floor to clean up, all of the ice from _this_ moment disappeared without a trace, leaving everything completely unharmed. It was a miracle that did not go unnoticed by the monarchs.

As the last snowflake melted, Idun looked down to see that Elsa had fallen asleep in her arms. “Oh, my Baby,” she muttered softly as she stroked Elsa’s hair, “My sweet, little fairy.” ‘ _Why did all of this have to happen to_ you _, Elsa?’_

Adgar did not have to hear that question to know it was on his wife’s mind. He thought a similar thing, himself. Idun glanced around the room. The deadly icicles may have left, but the shards of glass from the window and mirror still remained. “I’ll go get a broom and dustpan from Gerda,” she said to Adgar, “We…we can’t leave broken glass in here.” She wished it was just because it was a danger to step on, but if this experience taught her anything, it was that they would now have to be extra vigilant for a while.

The King swallowed hard, but solemnly nodded. Idun attempted to get up from underneath her daughter, but Elsa seemed to sense that she was leaving and thus clung even more tightly to her dress. A new wave of tears sprung from the Queen’s eyes as she realized that once Elsa came to her senses in the morning, this would never happen again.

“May I?” Adgar asked carefully as he leaned toward them.

Idun eyed him warily, but allowed him to take the Princess and pull her into his arms. Even while unconscious, Elsa recognized where she was, and snuggled up to her father’s chest. In that single action, she placed all of her trust into his hands without even realizing it. “Don’t worry,” he said to both of them, “I’ll watch over her.”


	5. Chapter 5

King Adgar had always hated trade agreements. They were often long and meticulous, and there was always one nation that seemed to think they deserved better treatment than everyone else. He sighed as he reached for the next one. He had been reading and signing for hours, and upon reading Weselton’s name on top of this document, he groaned in exasperation.

A cheerful giggle responded to him. He looked around the room, believing that he had been alone in his study. He heard the pitter-patter of little feet running behind his chair, and as he turned he was just able to catch a small sprinkle of snowflakes follow after the person who dove behind the curtains.

He smiled playfully, got up from the chair and began to pretend to look around the room. “That’s odd,” he commented, “I could have sworn I heard someone in here, but it doesn’t appear to be so.”

He heard the giggle again. He went over to the other side of the room to humour her. “There it is again! I do hope it isn’t my goof of a daughter planning to surprise me with a snowball…again.” He began to pick things up off the table that were impossible to hide behind, pretending that she was like some sort of elusive spirit.

He wandered over to the curtains, which were swaying back and forth. He smirked, and quickly pulled the fabric back while exclaiming, “Gotcha!”

There was no one there.

Suddenly, he felt something cold and wet explode on the back of his neck, parts of the debris falling down the back of his jacket. He tensed up and tried in vain to shake the snow out, making himself look rather silly in the process. He heard that infectious giggle again, and he turned to see four-year-old Elsa laughing so hard she nearly fell over onto the floor. “No, I got you, Papa!” she cried happily.

“How did you…” he began, pointing to the curtain he was sure she was hiding behind to where she stood in the center of the room.

“I’m sneaky,” she replied.

He walked over to her and scooped her up into his arms. “I can see that,” he commented as he walked over to sit on the sofa beside the roaring fireplace, “But I have to ask: what are you doing out of bed? Your bedtime was hours ago.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she told him as she rubbed one of her eyes.

“Oh?” Adgar questioned, “Is that so?”

Elsa nodded. “Uh huh. The sky’s awake,” she told him confidently, as if it were a perfect reason for a little girl to be up at one in the morning.

“So you’re awake?” he laughed, “I can’t argue with that logic, can I?”

“Papa, why are you awake? Aren’t you tired?”

He sighed, “Well, I can’t say that I’m not tired, but I need to get this paperwork done.”

“Why?”

“It’s part of my job as King.”

“Why?”

“Well, as a leader, I have to make decisions. And that paperwork is how we make decisions here in Arendelle.”

“Why?”

He sighed again. She had just recently reached the “why” phase, and she was a curious little girl at that. But she was also clever, and usually only had to have things explained to her once before she grasped the concept. “Well, I guess it’s easier to document if everything is written down. That way, years from now, if we need to look at a decision again, we can just go looking for the paperwork.”

“Oh,” she replied. She was silent for a moment, her brows knitted together in deep thought. “Will I have to do paperwork when I’m Queen? Or will I get to be like Mama and go to special events or walk around town talking to people?”

Adgar laughed softly. “You will probably be stuck at that desk,” he said while pointing at the large piece of furniture currently covered in loose papers, “dealing with crazy people like that stuffy Duke from ‘Weaseltown.’” He paused to join her in amusement. “I imagine your sister will be the socialite.”

“She only cries right now, Papa…until I use my magic to make her happy, anyway.”

He smiled. The young princess Anna was several months old now, but he knew the two sisters shared an unbreakable bond the second he witnessed Elsa cheer her inconsolable, screaming sister up with a gentle flurry of star-like snowflakes. “She may only know how to cry now, but she’ll learn to talk, just like you did,” he explained.

Elsa’s eyes lit up. “Oh, good! There’s so much I want to talk with her about, but I really just end up being the one talking, while she listens,” she sighed in relief, “I don’t think she really knows what I’m saying, but she really likes the word ‘snow’.”

“Does she?” he said, “Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret: every time your mother or I say your name around Anna, she suddenly gets very happy, and looks around to find you.”

“She does?”

He nodded. “She knows who she likes. And she has good taste.” He lovingly ruffled her blonde hair, disturbing it only slightly from its short braid.

“Papa!” she giggled.

“Oh, you can have messy hair sometimes, Princess,” he teased.

She wriggled out of his hands so she could stand up in his lap. He kept his arms around her waist to make sure she did not fall off, while she reached her hands up to his head. She ran her small fingers through his hair, and pulled it up and out. He felt a gentle wave of cold near his head, before she removed her hands with a grin on her face. “What did you…” he began as he reached up to feel his hair, which had been styled and frozen into place in crazy, out-of-control spikes. He cast her a tired glance. She merely responded with a giggle.

“Papas can have messy hair, too,” Elsa laughed. Her mirth was then stopped short by a large yawn.

“Tired, Snowflake?” he asked, feeling rather sleepy himself.

“No,” she lied as she sat back down in his lap, rubbing one of her sapphire eyes wearily, “I’m not that tired.” Another yawn betrayed her.

He chuckled. “I think it’s time a certain princess went to bed.”

“Can’t I stay up a little longer, Papa?” she pleaded, “To keep you company?”

His cheerful smile turned into one of pure warmth. “And why is that, Snowflake?”

She shrugged. “You seemed lonely. You’re always in here, Papa. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t alone. No one likes being alone.”

He wrapped his arms more tightly around her. “Tell you what: I can afford a bit of a break. Why don’t you keep me company for an hour?”

“Ok, Papa.” She seemed reluctant to settle for just an hour, but Adgar knew she was beginning to fade.

They began in friendly small talk; the King asked the Princess how her day was, and she responded by telling him about her adventures throughout the castle. She seemed the most proud of teaching herself how to make it snow indoors, and she even offered a small-scale demonstration to him. He laughed at his funny little daughter’s love of her magic, and he adored how, when talking about it, her eyes sparkled just as much as the magic that flowed from her hands.

The more she talked the more yawns interrupted her. It was not long until she was sound asleep in Adgar’s arms. He smiled as he looked down at her. Moments like this one were secretly his favourite, because it was for this brief time that they were not bound by their political titles. He was not King Adgar, Ruler of Arendelle, and she was not Princess Elsa, heir to the throne. They were simply a father and a daughter, who loved each other more than life itself.

He watched her for a few minutes, as she snuggled closer to his body. A soft smile crept onto her face as she fell deeper and deeper into sleep. The ice that she used to freeze his hair had melted a while ago, without even leaving the strands damp. He smiled down at her, wondering if it was possible for anyone to look as happy as she did in that moment.

He carefully lifted her up and carried her to her room, making sure not to wake her. He gently set her down on the mattress and pulled the covers up over her shoulders. He then brushed her soft hair out of her face, before leaning down and kissing her on the forehead. “Goodnight, Snowflake,” he murmured, “Sweet dreams.”


End file.
